


maybe just stick to cacti

by oh_no_oh_dear



Series: tungle dot hell [5]
Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-27
Updated: 2017-03-27
Packaged: 2018-10-11 18:33:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,132
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10471386
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oh_no_oh_dear/pseuds/oh_no_oh_dear
Summary: Combined two anon prompts: Sam/Bucky + domestic and Sam/Bucky + "you weren't supposed to hear that"





	

**Author's Note:**

> If you think I didn't coo and aww sickeningly over my own writing, you'd be wrong. THESE TWO!!

    “Dun, dun dun... _another one bites the dust,”_ Sam sang, watching Bucky scowl at the potted plant. The poor thing had finally died, refusing to be revived with water, sun, or plant food. It was the 5th plant Bucky had killed in the last 2 months. 

    “Shut it, Wilson.”  
  
    “You’re right. I don’t want to enrage the plant murderer.”  
  
    "Yeah, that’s right. I’m comin’ for your mint.”  
  
    “Don’t touch my fucking herbs, Bucky Barnes.” Sam knelt next to Bucky, using his shoulder to nudge him playfully. “You can’t just murder my plants because yours keep committing seppuku.”  
  
    “Oh, _haha._ I dunno what I’m doing wrong... these are supposed to be easy, right?”  
  
    “Yeah, man. Super easy, my ma used to grow them and they were fine with just about anything.”  
  
    “Shit.”  
  
    “Don’t worry about it, Barnes. Your lemon tree is doing real good...” Sam stood and offered Bucky a hand up. “I’m even using one of the lemons for dinner, huh?”  
  
    “Great, yeah,” Bucky murmured. He looked sadly at the anthurium’s shrivelled leaves and sighed.  
  


* * *

  
    “C’mon, baby, please please... just one little flower for me,” Bucky was muttering to the droopy plant. He startled as Sam cleared his throat behind him.  
"You weren’t supposed to hear that,” he groaned, drawing a laugh from the other man.  
  
    “Like I’m not used to you bein’ a weirdo. Another anthurium? Why you so obsessed with these plants, anyway? Your peace lily is fine, the succulents are doing great--”  
  
    “Just... I want this one to bloom.”  
  
    “Why?”  
  
    “What, a guy can’t like flowers?”  
  
Sam just laughed, kissing Bucky’s smiling mouth. “You’re _weird_ , Barnes.”  
  
    “And yet you’re with me.”  
  
    “Never said I wasn’t weird too.”  
  


* * *

  
Bucky used his hip to nudge the fridge closed, his arm full of ingredients. It was his turn to cook, and although Sam usually insisted on helping, Bucky had put his foot down. Sam had had a long week, and he wasn’t going to let the man run himself ragged when Bucky was perfectly capable of making a good dinner.

  
Well. A decent dinner. He apparently went a little heavy with the salt.  
  
    “You _sure_ you don’t want help?” Sam asked, poking his head into the kitchen.  
  
    “Been cookin’ dinner with one arm all my damn life, Sam,” Bucky said, rolling his eyes. Sam scowled; his boyfriend had been born with one arm, and Sam knew that that had nothing to do with what a bad cook he was.  
  
    “You know damn well I didn’t mean that. Last time you tried to make coconut rice you used an _entire-ass tin_ for one cup of rice.”  
  
    “Well... you could taste the coconut, right?”  
  
Sam shook his head, silently resolving himself to make a good show of eating whatever over-seasoned dish Bucky presented for dinner. You’d think that a white guy from the 30s would _under-_ season food, but no.  
  
    “Where’d anthurium #5 go, Bucky? Croaked?”  
  
Bucky carefully repressed his urge to look furtive. The plant was far from dead, but he didn’t want Sam to know that yet. It’d ruin the surprise.  
  
    “Yeah,” he lied easily. “Threw it out. Hey, come taste this?”  
  
Sam allowed Bucky to feed him a spoonful of the sauce that he was mixing together for their chicken.  
“Damn, Barnes. This is really goo-- Bucky, _no!”_  
  
    “What? What’d I do?” Bucky asked, having just added about 3 tablespoons of salt to the sauce, effectively ruining it.  
  


* * *

  
Sam cracked an eye open, groaning faintly as the bright morning sun shone through a slit in the blinds. He was mildly hungover, courtesy of Bucky and Steve taking him out for pre-birthday drinks the night before. Red wine was the devil. 

  
Sam rolled over in the bed, sighing when he saw that Bucky wasn’t there-- and based on how cold his spot was, he’d been gone a while. It’s not that Sam was being bratty or anything; it just sucked to wake up on his birthday in an empty bed.  
  
A loud _thud-thud-thud_ came from the front door, making Sam sit up. That had to be Bucky, and if he was kicking the door instead of knocking, it meant that his arm was occupied. _Maybe with cake_ , Sam allowed himself to hope.  
  
    “Happy birthday. You look like shit,” Bucky greeted him. Sam grabbed the large box of Krispy Kreme doughnuts from his hand, slapped him upside the head, and pretended to close the door behind him-- but Bucky slipped inside the apartment easily. It was a well-worn routine by now.  
  
    “I _feel_ like shit, but some angel brought me fresh doughnuts,” Sam sighed, breathing in the warm sweet scent. He quirked an eyebrow at Bucky. “If you see him, tell him thanks. He’ll be easy to spot-- he’s the guy who _doesn’t_ tell his boyfriend that he looks like shit on his damn birthday.”  
  
    “Mhmmm,” Bucky hummed, kissing Sam’s neck as Sam bit into a doughnut and groaned with pleasure.  
“Happy birthday, Sam.”  
  
The smile Sam turned on him was pure sunshine, and it never failed to make Bucky smile softly in return.  
“Thank you, baby.” It wasn’t that often that they used 'cute' nicknames for each other, preferring _Wilson_ and _Barnes_ for their teasing, but it was a special occasion.  
  
    “One minute, I got somethin’ for you,” Bucky murmured before pulling the front door open and disappearing for a few minutes. Sam busied himself eating far more doughnuts than could have been healthy (it was his _birthday_ , dammit), content to sip at the coffee that Bucky had thoughtfully set to brew as Sam slept.  
  
    “Okay. Uhm... happy birthday. Again.”  
  
Sam stared at the large, heart-shaped flower perched delicately among the healthy-looking green of the plant’s leaves.  
  
    “You got it to flower? How...?”  
  
    “I asked Cynthia across the hall to take care of it for me. I... I know these were your ma’s favourites, and she... she wanted me to try to grow ‘em for you after she-- you know.” Sam’s mother had been sick for a long time, passing away a few years ago.  
  
Sam’s smile was decidedly watery. “Sh-she used to say giving an anthurium was giving someone your heart.”  
  
    “I remember,” Bucky said quietly. Sam looked momentarily nonplussed before his face softened. He took the plant from Bucky, fondly running a finger over the waxy red flower before setting down the pot. Then he was kissing Bucky-- his forehead, his nose, his mouth; he even raised his hand to his mouth and pressed little kisses to his knuckles.  
  
    “What’s all that for?” Bucky asked, red-faced and gruff. Sam smirked.  
  
    “You _loooove_ me.”  
  
    “I take it back.”  
  
    “You just gave me your heart because you’re in _love_ with me, Barnes.”  
  
Bucky opened his mouth to retort, but then just shrugged, laughing. “Yeah, so? What, a guy can’t be in love?”  
  



End file.
